


Hank Anderson: POS

by Iocane



Series: The One With The Glory Holes [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (in case jerking off is a seprate tag), Edging, Glory Hole, Hank Anderson Has Self-Esteem Issues, M/M, Masturbation, Oh god how to tag this motherfucker, Prostitution, Sex Club, Unrequited Lust, anonymous blowjob, jerking off, no beta we die like men, one sided pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:06:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: Hank is deeply attracted to Connor, who he lives and works with.Since he is, of course, not someone Connor would want to do anything with, he's taking his frustrations to a sex club gloryhole whenever Connor goes out to explore life.And he feels like shit about it, every time.





	Hank Anderson: POS

**Author's Note:**

> Don't let this fool you, I love the stuffing out of Hank, he's probably my favorite character by far! With Connor a close second.
> 
> This was an attempt to de-angstify myself because I've got several WIP's at the moment and every ... single ... one is either about to start or just finished some heavy angst, and I just wanted some smut.
> 
> But no. I mean, there's smut, but it's very angsty smut, because that's what I write now, apparently.

Hank Anderson knows he's a piece of shit.  People who aren't fucked up messes don't find themselves in the cheap rooms of sex clubs with their dick in a hole, waiting for attention.

But that's just what Hank has been doing several times a week since shortly after the android revolution.  In his youth, he'd joked that he was pro robot sex, but against sexbots - not fun if the machine can't consent, right?

Not that he needed a machine to get off, mother thumb and her four daughters suited him just fine.  Until recently.

Recently being here defined as "the period following Connor coming to live with him."

His first few impressions of 'Connor, the android sent by CyberLife' were clouded by being either staggering drunk, hungover, or that sliver of extreme fucking hell that was somehow both at the same time.

Once he was sober, or at least only slightly buzzed, he quickly realized just how attractive his new housemate was.  From the very start he'd been a sassy fucker. 

_ "You know what you can do with your instructions." "No. What?" _

And once he was wearing real people clothes and not doll uniforms, Hank realized he had a great ass, too.  But Hank, piece of shit he might be, was not going to be  **that** asshole. Connor was a good person, he deserved another good person.  Not a drunk whose best years were further behind than he cared to admit.

Which lead to Hank's current situation.  Pants around his knees, hips flush to the wall, meaty cock stuck through a plastic lined hole.

He never had to wait long.  It was always a lovely sensation when that cool, slick mouth took him in so easily.  His palm pressed against the wall as he rutted slightly into the hungry android mouth.

Since his dick was seldom neglected long enough to even get dry, and never actually touched, Hank liked to imagine that whoever it was liked his dick in his mouth.  It was nice to feel wanted, even if this was all he got of it.

Connor went out after work several times a week  _ "To experience what life has to offer," _ and Hank always coordinated his little shame visits during that time, so as not to answer any potentially embarrassing questions about where he'd been and what he'd been doing with his time.  Well meant questions, of course. Natural that a detective android would be curious.

Hank was not about to admit he was off getting his dick serviced by some anonymous Traci because he would  _ not  _ fuck his housemate and work partner.  Not that Connor would want that, anyway.

Hank muffled a groan as that needy mouth slid down his shaft and sucked at the skin just at the base, tugging at his balls.  Hank reached down, lifting his cock enough to offer his balls through the hole, where they were eagerly sucked. Happened every time, but some perverted part of him liked the mouth to ask.  Liked to feel that someone out there wanted more of him.

That perfect, slick mouth took him down, swallowing around the head of his cock.  He could feel the muffled, needy moan vibrating in that throat. Hank forced his eyes open, head angled just right so he could meet the gaze of whoever was sucking him off.  If the wall wasn't between them.

This was a game they played every time (and Hank more and more felt sure it was the same one, the mouth knew his sweet spots too well).  Fast bobbing, harder sucking, a needy whine vibrating along his dick. It was a perverse form of chicken, and Hank always won. Or was it lost?

If the mouth was pulled away before Hank got too close, he'd ease himself back and stay.  If Hank felt like he was gonna come, he left. That sweet fucking mouth sucked on him every second he was pulling away.

Hank ran a finger over his erection, getting it wet with android spit and tasting it.  Nothing special, like a flavorless, watery lube, as always. Nothing at all like a human mouth.  Drying off with a paper towel, he zipped up and left.

As usual, he took a cab to and from the club, preferring to let his mind wander.  Well, not wander. Wander implied a certain amount of meandering. Hank know exactly what he wanted to think about.

It was one reason he never came in the club.  Wasn't like it cost extra or anything, he just preferred getting off at home.

Connor was still out, and according to the clock, would be for a few more hours yet.  Hank pet his dog, then went into his bedroom to close the door.

Sprawled on his on bed, pants kicked off, Hank closed his eyes and finally, really let his imagination go.  That slick mouth was still fresh in his mind and he recalled it now, hungry mouth sliding down his length.

Except instead of some anonymous Traci (or whatever model it was - they weren't all Traci's now that they could  _ choose  _ to be sexbots, or not), the eager warmth was attached to brown eyes and hair, and a real sassy fucking mouth.

Hank had never been one for getting fancy about jerking off, but lately he'd been more aware of just how smooth android hands were.  Which is why he wore rubber gloves now, like some fucking medical kink pervert. Rubber gloves and a watery lube. Didn't have quite the same taste but the texture was close.

Another reason he did this while Connor was out, left to his own devices, Hank could be noisy, even just jerking off.  He grunted as he rutted up into his clenched fist, imagining his fingers messing up that perfectly combed hair as he fucked his way into Connor's mouth.

There were other things he sometimes imagined, occasionally dreamed about.  But he didn't  **know** what Connor was packing, if he had anything at all.  So Hank generally stayed with his mouth.

Imagined feeding his dick to Connor while he knelt, eyes hungry and willing as they gazed up at him. "Fuck!" Hank growled, twisting his balls to stave off an orgasm, hissing in pain.

Edging was something new as well.  He'd never seen the point before. A little teasing, some anticipation was one thing, and foreplay was  _ great _ .  But for the orgasm itself - Get off and go to sleep.  Or get off, cuddle,  _ then  _ sleep, if he was with someone who was into that.  But since he'd started this twisted game, he'd started to really get into delaying.  Getting himself just up to the edge, then pulling back.

Hank drew in a few deep, ragged breaths as he let his insistent need fade a little.  At first, he'd just gone to the club, come home, and jerked off in the shower like the sad loser asshole he was.  

Once that wait had become part of the pleasure - almost a fucking ritual at this point - he'd tried a cock ring.  While it had certainly allowed him to last longer at the club, once he got home it felt like cheating. He hadn't bothered with it again.

When it felt safe, Hank eased his hand off his balls, adding more slick to both hands.  "Fuck I wanna fuck that -fucking," he growled to himself as he imagined holding Connor's head in both hands and fucking into his tight mouth.  He wondered if all androids had the same slick coolness, or just the sex models? His imaginary Connor did, and Hank would never know different.

Androids didn't actually  **need** to breathe, Hank knew that from casual discussions with Connor.  So Hank could stuff his dick down a hungry android throat and keep it there.  Connor liked to struggle sometimes, in his fucked up imagination. Not  _ struggle _ -struggle, Hank wasn't into rape play.  But watery eyes, throat spasming, hands on Hank's thighs, a soft choking sound as he tried to breathe around the dick blocking the air he didn't need.  He'd let him go, just enough to suck in a few breaths, then they almost raced to see who was faster - did Connor suck him down first, bury his nose in Hank's belly? Or was Hank faster, shoving his cock back into that needy fucking mouth?

Hank's hips lifted off the bed as he almost came again, hands falling away, heart pounding.  His cock screamed, aching for release and he knew he wouldn't be able to pull back again.

Connor on his knees, mouth open, hands held behind his back.  Eyes soft and hungry as Hank cupped his chin. "Yeah," he breathed into the empty room.  "That's it," he imagined teasing him, this sweet and eager Connor who would finally get his release.  "Pretty fuckin' mouth," Smearing precome on those smartass lips, then watching them close and stretch around his dick.  One hand on his chin, holding his head steady. Once his bulbous head was between Connor's lips, his other hand slid through that hair.  Just long enough at the top for Hank to get a fistful. 

Blue tinged cheeks hollowed, a slick tongue on the underside of Hank's cock.  He worked slow, building up to his orgasm. Slick, gloved hands slid over his almost oversensitive cock as he kept his eyes closed and pictured it.  Pushing into Connor's mouth until he got to the back of his throat, or whatever passed for one. Instead of fucking down into his throat, Hank imagined drawing back, just rutting against the back of his mouth.  Androids didn't choke, they had no reason to, but fuck if Hank didn't love the sound, that tight catch like a backwards gasp, cut off over and over by an aggressive dick.

To his shame, and not for the first time, Hank roared his partner's name as he finally let go.  The upside of edging was his orgasms seemed to last a long longer and were a fuck of a lot more intense.  As Hank lay struggling to breathe for a moment, he thought he might have actually hit the headboard this time.  He knew he'd hit his face.

He rubbed his face against his forearm, then just let it fall over his eyes.  He was an absolute irredeemable piece of shit and he knew it. He should urge Connor to move out, find somewhere better, start dating maybe.  Except he didn't want to. He liked having Connor around, and not just because he cooked and cleaned. 

_ "I don't sleep like you, Hank, I need  _ **_something_ ** _ to do with my time."  _

"...Give you something to do with your time," Hank growled to himself as he finally hoisted himself out of bed.  He didn't bother with pants, just pulling his shirt off and striding naked into the bathroom in a futile attempt to wash away his shame and guilt.

**Author's Note:**

> Now with 100% more sequel! [Connor: Fake Traci](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439192)


End file.
